


Soul's Meeting

by rannadylin



Series: Ianthina and Glynis [1]
Category: Pillars of Eternity
Genre: Character of Faith, Female Friendship, First Meetings, Gen, Priests, Training
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-11
Updated: 2019-10-11
Packaged: 2020-12-09 09:37:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20992667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rannadylin/pseuds/rannadylin
Summary: Ianthina, new to priestly training, struggles with her first spell. An acolyte with a bit of a head start on her offers help - and friendship.





	Soul's Meeting

**Author's Note:**

  * For [queen_scribbles](https://archiveofourown.org/users/queen_scribbles/gifts).

> OCtober Day 11, requested by queen_scribbles from the Sententiae Latinae prompt list: Omnium enim rerum pricipia parva sunt from the Latin prompts for Ianthina, "The beginnings of all things are small." So here we have the beginning of Ianthina's priestly training and of her friendship with Glynis!

Ianthina repeated once more the words of the prayer, without even a glance at the text open in front of her -- fruitless her efforts might be, but at least she had the thing committed to memory many tries ago -- and once more tried to weave her fingers in the pattern the instructor had shown. Nothing happened. Her huff of frustration stirred a lock of hair fallen loose from her braids. She tucked it behind her ear and tried again, just a little louder, in case the gods were hard of hearing.

The invocation, simple though it seemed, still failed to produce the flare of light that it had summoned when the instructor demonstrated. Ianthina sighed, shoved the book forward upon the desk, and leaned over it, resting her forehead on her hands and her elbows on the desktop as she read over the text once more.

For the first time in the past hour, a voice other than her own broke the silence of the deserted dining hall. “Having trouble?”

Ianthina sat up, looking around for the speaker. 

“Sorry to interrupt,” the voice added, and at that Ianthina turned and looked down to see an orlan, ears lowered along with her gaze, hands tucked behind her back. She wore an acolyte’s robes much like Ianthina’s own, though smaller. Auburn fur, just a tad pinker over her face, made her seem to blush as she peeked up at Ianthina again, with wide, violet eyes somewhere under that shock of fur. Or perhaps she _was_ actually blushing?

“It’s all right,” Ianthina answered. “You’re not exactly interrupting anything much, as I suppose you’ve already noticed. I don’t know what I’m missing, but it just won’t work for me.”

The orlan nodded, eyes flicking to the prayer book. “The prayer for light, if I recognized the invocation?”

“Allegedly so,” Ianthina said. “Well, to be fair, it certainly produced light when the instructor did it.”

The orlan nodded again, and then, without a glance toward the text, recited the same short prayer that had burned its place in Ianthina’s memory, wove the same hand movements, and gracefully summoned a swirling spark of light to hover just above her hand. Then she winced, catching sight of Ianthina’s expression. “Sorry, again. I don’t mean to show off; that was quite rude of me.” With a wave of her hand, the light snuffed out. “It’s your first spell, right?”

“Is it that obvious?”

“Well, the instructors tend to start with something like that. The first one is always the hardest, regardless.” She shrugged, tucking her hands behind her back again and shifting slightly from foot to foot. “Maybe I can help you?”

Ianthina bristled for a moment. She had the words all right, the movements, everything -- she was sure of it. What help could this stranger offer that she hadn’t already tried? And yet..._something_ was missing, and the orlan acolyte clearly had that something. “I...would appreciate that, yes,” Ianthina finally admitted. 

The orlan brightened, ears flicking in delicate arcs along with her smile. “Great!” She climbed up onto the bench next to Ianthina, pulling the text back towards them and then proceeding to ignore it as she turned and held out an auburn-furred hand, smiling up at her. “Oh, and it’s very nice to meet you! I’m Glynis ix Llewi.”

Ianthina looked at the outstretched hand a moment, then clasped it carefully. “Ianthina.”

“You’re new, right? Well, obviously you are, if it’s your first spell. I mean, I don’t think I’ve seen you around before.”

“A week. Nearly two, in fact.” She drew her hand back and looked away. “The early training was no difficulty. I know how to study; I have several of the litanies of the gods by heart already. But the spells, prayers of invocation…” She crossed her arms. “I don’t know why this eludes me.”

“It isn’t the words,” Glynis said. “I heard you saying them. A few times, in fact,” she grinned. “I couldn’t quite see your hand movement, but I think that’s probably just fine too. It’s just that we aren’t wizards, Ianthina.”

“What?” She frowned at Glynis’ earnest expression.

“Quite simply, any miracles we do are down to faith,” Glynis said with a shrug. “You believe in the gods, I’m sure, or you wouldn’t be here.”

“I...yes,” Ianthina murmured, twisting at the bracelet clasped round her wrist beneath the robe’s sleeves, with its iconography of skull and key. “I am quite convinced of their existence.”

Glynis laughed, a shock of merriment that turned Ianthina’s eyes back to her. “Oh, I don’t mean belief like _that,”_ she corrected. “I mean _faith. _You know the gods exist, but do you _trust _your god? Do you _know _that invocation will bring light, because you will it and you are your god’s and that is as good as your god willing it?” She looked Ianthina over thoughtfully. “Speaking of which, have you sworn to a god yet? Or decided which one you’ll swear to, at least? I know the early training is very ecumenical; I suppose I’ve been ministering to Eothas long enough to forget those days of studying the whole pantheon till one in particular calls to your soul.”

Ianthina nodded slowly. “Not sworn officially, no -- in fact no one’s said anything about that yet, about when we are to do so. But if anyone calls my soul, it is Berath.”

“Then,” Glynis said, “your miracles will come from your faith in Berath. It really is that simple. However,” she admitted, reaching over to pat Ianthina’s hand, “putting faith into action that first time still isn’t easy.”

“Certainly not,” Ianthina grumbled, looking over at the prayer text again. “Perhaps it was easier for you? Light is _your_ god’s domain, after all.”

Glynis cocked her head and one ear in consideration. “I suppose, maybe so. But my god is not stingy with his light, really. They teach that spell early on because it’s not restricted to one cult over the others. You _can_ do it, Ianthina.” She smiled, patting Ianthina’s hand again. “I have faith in _you.”_

Ianthina snorted a laugh at her new friend’s enthusiastic confidence -- and then paused to wonder at how quickly she had allowed her the name of _friend._ Probably it was too hasty: Glynis was doing her a kindness now, which for an Eothasian priest was quite normal after all, but it was help with a tricky spell she had offered, not friendship. Or was it?

Still, Glynis was smiling up at her as if they were friends of so many years as to justify the faith she had just claimed. If a near-stranger could so easily find faith in a raw recruit who had thus far demonstrated a complete lack of magical ability, how hard could it be for Ianthina to put into practice the faith that had brought her here to train for holy orders?

She looked at the text one more time, though it was from her soul’s memory, not from the book before her, that she read the prayer, so brief and yet so difficult for her beyond the page. She closed her eyes and raised a hand. As she spoke the prayer, as she made the movements, she thought of Berath, of all that she had learned about her god since coming here. And then she thought of that day she had first learned of her god’s existence, that day that had consigned her parents to Berath’s care in the way that all the world must go, sooner or later, while it consigned Ianthina herself to Berath’s service. She lived on for a reason. She was _sure_ of that.

She finished the invocation, traced the last of the movements, and opened her eyes. At her startled gasp, the light shining over her fingers nearly winked out, but Ianthina scowled at it and willed it to remain. And so it _did._

Glynis bounced happily beside her, the tips of her fur trembling with her excitement. “See? Berath has faith in you, too!”


End file.
